


Tidal Wave

by Drazyrohk



Category: Transformers: Rescue Bots
Genre: Age Difference, Angry Sex, Coitus Interruptus, First Time, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 09:12:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5579758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drazyrohk/pseuds/Drazyrohk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was more High Tide could teach Heatwave, more than just how to be great at his job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HAHAHAHAHAHA I DID A THING. So, I was convinced to post this! Yet another failed attempt at writing a story for a friend and having it get away from me and becoming far longer than I intended!

Tantrums were sadly commonplace around here, especially where Heatwave was concerned. He didn’t like being told what to do, even if it was for his own good, and as a result he had a tendency to tense up and shout a lot.

Normally, people let him go when he stormed off. People let him blow off steam, think it over, then come back and apologize.

High Tide had exactly no patience left for this sort of behavior. Heatwave had officially pushed the old mech to the end of his rope.

When the other Rescue Bots departed for the day after their training aboard his vessel, Heatwave was the last to leave. High Tide watched as the hothead approached the side of the ship, and as Heatwave transformed he reached out and grabbed the back end of the triple changer’s alt mode and kept him from disembarking.

“Hey!” Heatwave growled. “Lemme go, you crusty old barnacle!” 

“I need a word with you.” High Tide said in a no nonsense tone, dragging the smaller mech back aboard and dropping him unceremoniously on the deck.

Transforming to root mode, Heatwave clenched his hands into fists and glared up at High Tide. “Just who do you think you are?” He demanded. 

The blue mech put a hand on his shoulder and steered him firmly into the ship’s interior. Heatwave grumbled but didn’t put up a fight. 

High Tide wasn’t letting him run away from his problems this time. 

“You need to find yourself a better outlet.” Lifting his chin and fixing his green optics on the fire truck, High Tide folded his arms. “I can understand a fiery temper, ‘specially in a young mech like you, but this goes beyond acceptable, do you hear me?” 

“What’s the matter, old man, can’t handle a few insults?” Heatwave bared his denta. “You can dish ‘em but you can’t take ‘em?” 

“I use my insults to prove a point.” High Tide ex-vented, his mouth quirking up in one corner slightly. “Lemme ask you a question, Heatwave.” 

He got a rather petulant glare that clearly communicated that Heatwave wished for him to get on with it.

“How often do you jack off, kid?” 

The effect was amusing. Heatwave’s faceplates flushed and he began spluttering indignantly. His voice rose a few octaves and he took a hurried step back that put him almost flush with the cabin wall. 

“That’s none of your business!” Heatwave said, squeaking a little. “You don’t get to ask me questions like that!” 

“I’m serious.” High Tide said with a light laugh. “I know you’re old enough to at least consider it. I’ve seen your file… if OP considers you old enough to run command of a team, you’re old enough to know how to self service. Pit, you’re the right age to be doin’ it every time you’re alone or the people you’re with are too distracted to notice.” 

“That is inappropriate! It is inappropriate!” Heatwave said, taking another step back and flaring his armor as he connected with the wall. 

“Nothin’ inappropriate about it!” High Tide pulled himself up to his full height, gazing down at the younger mech with a frown. “If you’re not indulging yourself, are you at least lettin’ one of your team take care of it for you?” 

“Absolutely not!” Heatwave shouted, now attempting a rather adorable threat display and glaring upwards with heated amber optics. “I would never engage them like that!” 

“Well then.” High Tide scoffed. “No wonder you’re draggin’ static everywhere you go. No wonder your gears are wound so tight you’re about to snap.” 

“Frag off, you salt encrusted, dried up old shipwreck!”

“Aw, look at that. Either he’s tryin’ to flirt with me or he’s just makin’ a fool of himself.” High Tide said with a slow grin. 

“You are seriously overstepping yourself, High Tide.” Heatwave’s cooling fans were buzzing, and he was so furious that High Tide half expected the fire truck to combust. 

Good. He needed to let it out. 

“I really would have expected you to give in to Blades’ pawing at the very least. Or let Chase get under that hood of yours… mech seems to know his way around things if he’s read the rules first and I know for a fact that Ratchet gave him a couple very informative manuals a few weeks ago-” High Tide’s continued tirade was cut off when Heatwave launched himself forward, fists swinging. “Whoa there!” 

Seizing the younger mech’s fist in one hand, High Tide pushed Heatwave back into the wall again. When the smaller mech began to struggle, spitting half formed curses and a great deal of static, he grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him into the air. 

For his efforts, High Tide got a pede to the denta and grunted in discomfort. He also ended up having Heatwave’s fists bouncing off his face and chest, the smaller mech succeeding in chipping High Tide’s headlight. 

“I would never do that. Never! I have to take care of them, keep them safe! I would never endanger them that way!” Heatwave finally panted. He was really steaming now, optics overly bright and chassis hot to the touch. High Tide hadn’t a mech get this mad in a long time. 

“How could fragging them endanger them?” He asked Heatwave, who swung at him again. This time, he moved his head back, out of the way. “You got some sort of nasty disease I oughta know about?” 

“C-can’t have them… getting… getting attached!” Heatwave grabbed hold of the side of High Tide’s helm and wrenched hard enough to make something come loose. He was also kicking him solidly in the gut, but the older mech tightened his frame and waited it out. “Something could go wrong… they could get hurt! I would never hurt them!” 

“Y’know what else might hurt them?” High Tide said with a scowl. “Losin’ your temper and layin’ into them the way you just did with me!” 

“I wouldn’t!” Heatwave’s voice cracked and his struggling began to slow.

“Yeah? I know Blades is pretty persistent. Mech doesn’t know when to back off, just like me. He might be a whiny wet blanket of a mech, but he’s got staying power. I know he pushes you sometimes, makes you mad enough you wanna shut him up any way you can.” High Tide shifted his grip, and Heatwave tensed again. “And he’s a motormouth… there’s a precedent for guys who like talkin’ to be really good at-” 

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear this!” Heatwave protested. “Especially not from you! And especially not about Blades!” 

“How ‘bout Chase, then? He’s a bit more mature, probably knows what he wants.” 

“Frag you, High Tide! Shut up!” 

“Or maybe a hothead like you prefers someone a little more sensitive? Artsy and passionate like Boulder…” 

Now Heatwave was back in struggle mode and trying to throttle him with his bare hands. High Tide let him fight, grabbing one of his legs when it lashed out at him and looping it over one shoulder. 

Now being supported by the wall and by High Tide’s hand on the back of his neck, Heatwave was reduced to trying to flail with his free leg and shouting increasingly creative profanity at the taller mech. 

High Tide shifted him a little further upright, put Heatwave’s other leg over his shoulder on the other side and pressed him against the wall hard. 

“You kiss your Carrier with that mouth?” High Tide hissed, Heatwave now panting furiously in an attempt to cool himself down. His armor was clamped so tightly to his frame, High Tide worried he had melted his plates together. 

“What are you hoping to achieve with all this? And why do you have me in such an undignified position?!” Heatwave shouted, High Tide making a scolding noise. 

“I’m hopin’ you’ll come to your senses a little. And barring that, Heatwave, I’m hoping you’ll open your panels for me and let me teach you some manners.” 

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Heatwave said in a mocking tone, but he had ceased struggling. Any struggling now would see him either wrapping his legs around High Tide’s helm or thrusting his panel right into the bigger mech’s face. 

“I got you thinkin’ about it, didn’t I?” High Tide smirked at him, leaning forward just a touch and venting against Heatwave’s groin. 

There was a long moment where the only sound was their collective venting and the sound of Heatwave’s fans. The younger mech stared at High Tide, optics hard and mouth still open to let the heat trapped in him out. 

It was almost possible to hear the gears in Heatwave’s head turning as he came to a decision. There was a subtle shifting of the younger mech’s hips, and he tensed his legs a few times as if trying to figure out how to pull them away without making things awkward. 

High Tide gave him time to figure things out, unable to ignore the fact that things were getting a little warm from his vantage point. Heatwave had a great frame and he was well aware of it. The kid had an ego, after all, and had no trouble flaunting his assets to get people to look at him. 

Grunting and sighing, Heatwave squeezed his optics shut tightly and then turned his head away. 

“Does it help?” Heatwave’s voice was so soft, if he hadn’t been in the position he was, High Tide might have missed his words. 

“Elaborate for me.” The older mech met the younger’s optics. 

“... ‘facing.” Heatwave was blushing again. “Does it help make the rage go away?”

“Sure does.” High Tide smirked. “You’re too blissed out to bother tryin’ to pick a fight. Don’t even need a partner… just a hand, a toy, a vid, or a vivid imagination.” 

“But if that were the point you were trying to make with me, you wouldn’t be holding me like this, now would you?” Glaring shamelessly, the fire truck huffed out another steaming vent and grit his denta.

“Think of this as a catalyst, then.” High Tide said in an irritated tone, adjusting his grip and causing Heatwave to wrap his legs around his neck in panic. “Easy. I won’t drop you.”

“I take it you’ve done this before?” Heatwave tried to force himself to relax, his armor fluffed. His vents hitched when High Tide turned his head a little and placed a kiss on the inside of Heatwave’s leg, just above his knee. 

“Never with someone as pretty as you.” The older mech smirked and Heatwave leaned his head back a little, scoffing. 

“I bet you say that to all the bots.” He muttered, High Tide chuckling. “If you wanted to frag me, you could have just asked.” 

“This was more poignant.” High Tide informed him. “This will stick with you.” 

“Pretty sure a straight up frag would have too.” Heatwave looked away again, another angry rush filling his field and not quite managing to cover his shame. “It’ll be the first time anyone’s done anything like this to me.”

“Then I’ll make sure to do it right. Old mechs like me, we’ve got a lifetime of experience behind us. They can claim I’m robbin’ the nest all I want, say that you’re barely more than a hatchling, but when you get to my age, everyone’s younger than you and it doesn’t really matter that much.” High Tide shrugged a little, making Heatwave’s legs tighten again when his shoulders rose and fell. “Besides, you couldn’t ask for a better teacher.” 

“Boasting now, huh?” Heatwave grumbled. “And you say I’m full of myself.” 

“Right now, I’d rather you be full of someone else. Namely me. Open up, Heatwave. I promise, I won’t bite unless you ask me to.” 

“Yeah, well I sure hope you’re thirsty, old man!” Heatwave said, and it would have been a lot more fragging hot if it hadn’t been for the shy squeak and the blazing heat in his faceplates. His panels finally folded back and High Tide was greeted with the sight of a very neat valve that was just beginning to grow slick with arousal.

Letting out a low whistle, High Tide let himself smile. “Very nice.” He said softly. “But you’re hardly gonna drown me like this, kid. Let’s see if we can’t get things flowing a little more, huh?”

All of Heatwave’s bluster vanished when the older mech leaned forward to drag his glossa across the outer folds of that tidy little slit, seeking Heatwave’s nub. A noise escaped the younger mech that he was probably terribly embarrassed about, but it made High Tide chuckle softly. 

He sucked Heatwave’s outer node into his mouth, denta grazing it, glossa stroking it. He applied gentle suction, getting jerked forward when Heatwave’s legs locked around him hard and pulled him in.

High Tide would have pulled back to gloat, but he was busy using his mouth for better things. Now the younger mech was very wet, and he lapped at the lubricant with interest and a deep hum of approval. 

Heatwave’s charge peaked but he fought his overload. High Tide drew away, his brows knitting as he looked up at the younger mech. Heatwave had one fist stuffed into his mouth, the other curled around High Tide’s helm desperately. 

“Hey now, what’s the matter? You could have told me to stop if you didn’t like it.” He said, jostling Heatwave a little to make him come to his senses. 

“It’s… too soon.” Heatwave panted, High Tide’s optics widening. The older mech let out a soft laugh and shook his helm. 

“If this is really your first overload, kid, then you’re doing fine. Really.” High Tide said, trying to get the fire truck to relax a little. “C’mon, calm down. You’re gonna be fine.” 

“This is humiliating.” Heatwave panted, leaning his head back. “I was… trying to…” 

“You were trying to maintain your dominance, but I’ve got a newsflash for ya, Heatwave.” High Tide curled his digits into Heatwave’s seams, stroking and soothing. “Two dominant mechs trying to interface never turns out in anyone’s favor. How about you stop fighting it?”

“It’s not enough. Too soon.” Heatwave repeated miserably.

“Then give in and I’ll give you more.” High Tide said in a low voice. “I will keep eating out this pretty little valve of yours until you beg me to stop.” 

Opening his optics, Heatwave looked at High Tide in exasperation. There was a hint of gratefulness, of eagerness, then Heatwave gave him a jerk of his head and High Tide dove back in. 

It only took a few more strokes and a flick of his glossa against Heatwave’s swollen outer node, then the charge crackled across the smaller red frame he held and Heatwave was shrieking his release.

Easing the tense, trembling frame away from the wall, High Tide carried him awkwardly through the door to the berthroom. He had to kick it open with one broad foot, the noise making Heatwave jerk in his arms. 

Laying the red mech down on the berth that High Tide used himself, the bigger mech spread Heatwave’s legs again and leaned down to continue his attentions.

His glossa plunged into the still spasming valve and twisted to try and gather up as much of the lubricant as he possibly could.

“H-how is this s-so good?!” Heatwave growled, bucking his hips upwards. 

Slipping his glossa free, High Tide mouthed along the outside of the smaller mech’s folds, sucking firmly. “You’re enjoying it, then?” He asked with a slow smile, Heatwave glaring at him and prompting him to double his efforts.

Charge was crawling over Heatwave’s frame… and the younger mech’s communicator started beeping. Both mechs froze in place, then High Tide’s optics glittered with mischief and he lifted his head. 

“Better answer it. They’ll be wondering why you haven’t if you leave it be.” He said.

“Just… need a second.” Heatwave took in a few deep vents to slow his cycling, then reset his vocalizer to try and clear it of static. Once he was satisfied with the result, he answered the comm. “What?” The younger mech’s growl made High Tide snicker softly.

“Where are you? The others got back ages ago!” Kade demanded on the other end. 

“I was persuaded to stay for further training.” Heatwave was doing a marvelous job keeping his voice even and low. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be back eventually.”

High Tide made optic contact with the younger mech, his own green ones dimming as he once again pressed his glossa in and began to pleasure him.

“Well, what if there’s an emergency while you’re out?” Kade argued, Heatwave spitting static at him and propping himself up on his elbows. 

“You guys will manage without me for… for an hour or so.” He said with difficulty, letting out a soft gasp when High Tide curled a hand under his aft and squeezed. 

There was no way Kade wouldn’t know what was going on if Heatwave overloaded while the human was speaking to him. Not with how loud the fire truck was proving to be. Still, High Tide didn’t bother stopping. The slick noises that rose into the air might not have been loud enough to register over the comm., but Heatwave’s labored venting probably did. 

“Fine. Whatever. Y’know, this is Griffin Rock, Heatwave. I just know something’s going to start on fire and I’ll be without a partner when it happens!” Kade said in a huffy tone, cutting off the comm. 

Heatwave took his communicator off and set it on the table next to the berth. He then reached down and grabbed hold of High Tide’s head with both hands, pulling him a little closer.

“What were you thinking?” He demanded, though without a lot of the rage that he might have been feeling before this encounter began.

High Tide just hummed appreciatively, causing Heatwave to curl around his helm, crying out when overload took him again. Continuing to service him through his climax, High Tide paused when Heatwave began to come down, giving him a chance to recover.

The fire truck took all of five seconds after coming to his senses to start getting frustrated, High Tide realizing he may have gotten himself into something a bit bigger than teaching a horny young mech how to relieve stress. 

Heatwave needed this more than he realized.

Lifting his head a little, High Tide dragged his wet glossa over Heatwave’s spike casing. It was hot and bowed slightly outwards, but after two overloads that wasn’t surprising. 

“I didn’t ask you to stop.” Heatwave said, High Tide chuckling. 

“And I’m not stopping.” He said. “Roll over.” 

“I’m not Servo. You can’t tell me what to do.” 

Primus, this kid had a mouth on him. High Tide pushed himself up onto his knees and reached out. Taking Heatwave’s shoulders in his hands, he mech-handled the fire truck onto his front amidst muttered protests and pushed his face into the berth covers.


	2. Chapter 2

Heatwave’s grumbling didn’t cease even though High Tide had his hand on the back of the younger mech’s helm and was pressing him down. 

Taking in the heated, quivering frame beneath him, High Tide let out a rumble of appreciation. “There isn’t an angle from which you don’t look absolutely delicious. If it weren’t for that mouth of yours…” He let the statement hang and Heatwave growled. “How many ‘loads is it gonna take to settle you down?” 

“Worried about your stamina, old mech?” Heatwave asked, and High Tide smirked.

“More worried about yours.” He said. “You’re still getting angry. Is that just your default state of being or am I not doing a good enough job?” 

“I’m angry cause you were… were…” Heatwave’s hands curled on the berth covers. “You were doing things to me while I was on the comm!” 

“So what?” High Tide snorted. “You could have told me to stop and I would have. You didn’t. Instead you spread your pretty legs and let me do it.” 

“Yeah, well, Kade would have deserved the shock of me overloading loudly while he was being a whiny brat.” Heatwave muttered, venting out more heated air and shifting his hips. “Are you just testing my patience, or does this position have a point?” 

Rolling his optics, High Tide moved his free hand between Heatwave’s legs, pressing his palm against the swollen folds of the younger mech’s valve and putting firm, even pressure on them. He curled one of his fingers up and ground it against the red mech’s outer node, listening to his vents hitch.

“You want more of the same? Or are you ready to move on?” High Tide asked, Heatwave making a questioning noise. He ground his palm against the other mech’s valve, watching Heatwave’s hands clutch the covers more tightly. “I could use a little relief.” 

“Like what?” Heatwave asked with a slight frown. “You just got me down here like this, so you can’t mean you’d like to shove your spike down my throat to shut me up. So that means…” 

“Could mean all sorts of things.” High Tide chuckled, moving his hand so he could press a single digit in through the slick folds and listening with satisfaction to Heatwave’s gasp. “Could mean I’d like to watch you do yourself for awhile so I can tend to my own needs. Could mean I wanna plow you into the berth. Could mean that I’m bored and I might just go to my washracks.” 

“Don’t you dare!” Heatwave tried to struggle free, so High Tide added another finger to his valve and pumped them lightly to get him to stop. “Hnngh!” 

“Aren’t you presumptuous?” High Tide said in a low voice.

“Y-you said you wouldn’t stop until I said so and I didn’t say so!” Heatwave squeaked, moaning brokenly as High Tide pulled his fingers free. “Why you-”

“Don’t get your struts in a twist, Heatwave. I’m not going to just leave you like this. Are you gonna pipe down or do I have to spank you into submission?” High Tide asked.

“Spank me? Seriously?” Heatwave flicked out his field in irritated amusement.

“Oh yeah. I’m serious. Naughty hatchlings get spankings.” High Tide said with a soft chuckle.

“I dare you to even try-”

The ring of his hand hitting Heatwave’s aft was extraordinarily loud in the closed cabin, as was the yelp that escaped the fire truck once the strike connected. 

Cooling fans roaring higher, vents stuttering, Heatwave began fighting to lift his head, and High Tide loosed his grip on the back of his helm to let him.

“I don’t back down from a legitimate challenge, Heatwave.” He said. “You dared me to do it.” 

Looking over his shoulder, Heatwave appeared to be having another internal struggle. His expression shifted, twisted, then he gripped the berth covers with both hands, limbs trembling. It took him a few tries to speak. “I fragging dare you to do it again.” He choked out, High Tide’s engine revving hard. “You smug bastard-”

The second time his hand connected, it wasn’t so much a yelp that burst out of Heatwave as a cross between a squeal and a snarl. 

“Mind your language.” High Tide instructed. “And don’t forget to tell me to stop if it’s too much.” 

He gave him a moment, and when the younger mech muttered a curse and pushed his hips up a little, High Tide spanked him again. Watching Heatwave writhe and clutch at the covers, gnawing on them with a moan, the older mech’s armor was starting to feel far too tight. 

He smoothed his hand over the heating metal of Heatwave’s aft, stroking a thumb along the edge of his valve and waiting for the younger mech to either tell him to stop or give him an indication he should keep going. 

“Th-that all you got?” Heatwave panted, and now fluid was starting to trickle down his thighs, his biolights pulsing and valve swollen. 

“This was supposed to be a punishment. I didn’t think you’d like it so much.” High Tide teased. He gave Heatwave another sharp slap and watched him fall to pieces. It wasn’t an entirely new concept, seeing a mech rather enjoy a good spanking. Frag, even Optimus liked getting his aft smacked till he couldn’t sit down. 

“Th-thought you hnnk… you w-wanted relief!” Heatwave panted, vocalizer clicking as he tried to reset it to clear the static. 

“Who’s to say this isn’t working for me as well as it is for you?” High Tide laughed, patting Heatwave’s aft and feeling the younger mech arch up into his touch. 

“Uuuugh, just frag me already, old mech!” Heatwave demanded through clenched denta.

“Is that what you want?” High Tide asked, tilting his helm to the side. 

“Is it what YOU want?” Heatwave asked in return. 

“It’s not exactly what I set out to do. But it doesn’t seem like such a terrible idea.” Leaning down a little, High Tide once again pressed two fingers into Heatwave’s tight slit. Much wetter now, and far looser, it wouldn’t take much work to fit his spike in. He wondered if he was getting carried away, if he had perhaps lost the plot of this whole situation, but he was so hard right now it was difficult to care.

And now the kid was feeling decidedly smug. That definitely wouldn’t do. High Tide would just have to put Heatwave in his place again. 

“Yeah yeah, pat yourself on the back a little more.” High Tide muttered, finally folding his panel back and letting his spike loose at last.

Right now, he really did need relief. He began scissoring and thrusting his fingers within Heatwave’s slick depths, figuring if he was going to do this, he’d at least prepare the smaller mech for what was coming.

It had a curious effect on Heatwave, the fire truck huffing quietly into the berth cover that was slightly damp from his oral lubricant. He kept shifting, eventually grinding his hips back against High Tide’s fingers, his venting slow and deliberate. 

The growling that escaped the smaller mech eventually quieted to panting, then became whimpers. “Please.” Heatwave finally ground out, pressing his face harder into the covers.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” High Tide asked with a surprised laugh. 

“S-stop teasing a-and… and t-take me.” Heatwave begged. 

High Tide slipped his fingers free again, Heatwave tensing but not uttering a sound this time. The larger mech produced a bottle of lube from his subspace, taking his sweet time in warming it in his hand a little before flipping the cap open. 

Putting some into the hand he had been using on Heatwave, the blue mech reached between his own legs and grabbed hold of his turgid length. He gripped firmly, rubbed a slick thumb over his tip, then began stroking along his spike to coat it with the lube. 

Heatwave was quivering. He probably couldn’t be more ready. At this point, it was going to be very hard for High Tide to be careful. He ought to turn the kid over, do this face to face, chest to chest, but if maybe Heatwave developed a taste for being taken from behind like this, that would be golden. 

This was a submissive pose. And Heatwave was begging for it. Begging! High Tide could just imagine Blades or Chase or Boulder as the one curling over him like this, and it would be so perfect. 

Words couldn’t describe the sound that Heatwave made as High Tide finally lined up and began to push in. The smaller mech’s valve was greedy, hungry, pulling him in even as he pushed, and he couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. 

There was no being careful or taking his time. High Tide needed this, and he needed it now. Heatwave wailed as he hilted himself within that welcoming heat, grunting softly as he began a rather brisk, firm rhythm. 

“S’this good for you?” High Tide asked, a rasp to his voice. 

Panting heavily, Heatwave turned his head a bit to look at High Tide. His mouth worked as he tried to form some sort of sentence, then he just pushed himself back, trying to impale himself even more deeply on High Tide’s spike. 

“Oh good. Glad we’re on the same wavelength here.” High Tide said with a short ex-vent, picking up the pace and plunging as deep as he could with each inward thrust. 

They were in the ocean, away from everyone else without any reason to worry about being heard. As loud as Heatwave was being now, High Tide was matching him in vigor and volume. 

As Heatwave begged for more, High Tide fed him eager encouragement. The sound of their hips clanging together, the creak of Heatwave’s jaw as he clenched it during overload, the collective heaving of their vents… High Tide savored all of it. It sounded to him like perfect abandonment, after all, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had thrown himself into interfacing like this. 

“Oh frag yes! That’s it, Heatwave! Sweetest aft I’ve taken in a long time!” He growled to the fire truck, who simply cried out his name exhaustedly in return. Leaning over Heatwave’s frame to whisper into his audial, High Tide couldn’t help grinning. “Whose stamina are you worried about now, huh?” 

Beyond the point of being able to form words, Heatwave just growled, the noise turning into a drawn out groan as High Tide continued pounding him. 

“Looks like I finally got all the fight out of you.” High Tide pressed down on Heatwave’s frame more heavily, feeling the end coming upon him fast. “Hope you’ve learned something from all this, Heatwave.” 

“S-stop… talking.” Heatwave said weakly, voice muffled. 

High Tide couldn’t help laughing, giving a few more ragged jerks of his hips before overloading with a soft huff. Heatwave lifted his head a little, optics widening, but High Tide missed any changes in his expression beyond that as his own optics fluttered closed. He let out a heavy vent of relief, shuddering, allowing all of his weight to fall on the younger mech. 

Heatwave grunted, squirming beneath him. Once his spike stopped twitching, High Tide could feel how hot the smaller mech’s valve was around his length. He was also throbbing, and the squirming began to intensify. 

“Heh.” High Tide nuzzled against Heatwave’s neck, lifting off of him enough to pull the smaller mech’s hips up. He groped his hand between them, rubbing against the panel over Heatwave’s spike. “Come on, lemme finish you off. I wanna feel you clenching around me one more time before letting you go.” 

Heatwave’s spike pressurized into his hand, High Tide exploring the length and girth of it. “Very nice. You’re gonna make some bot very happy someday, Heatwave. Now, show me what you like.”

“What?” Heatwave grumbled, voice slightly slurred from exhaustion. 

“Show me what you like. Gimme your hand.” High Tide said, smiling against the back of Heatwave’s neck. 

“Too tired.” Heatwave said, turning his head to the side and venting out heated air. He eventually shifted so that he was propping himself up on one arm, reaching down between his legs. High Tide moved his hand from around the smaller mech’s spike, waiting until Heatwave’s fingers closed over it before wrapping his hand around the fire truck’s. “I don’t have the energy for this.” 

“Aww, someone’s sleepy?” High Tide teased, but Heatwave simply gave him a rather irritated affirmation before beginning to move his hand along his length. “There we go. This shouldn’t take long.” 

Letting out a soft curse, Heatwave shifted again to a more comfortable position and moved his hand faster. 

“That’s it, you’re doing great.” High Tide said in a low voice, squeezing and listening in satisfaction to Heatwave’s vents hitching. “Little bit more pressure?” 

“Y...y-yeah, that works.” Heatwave said, groaning softly when he let High Tide grip him tight. “Oh frag that works very well.” 

“Come on then, you haven’t got all day. Clock’s ticking and your partner will probably call you again when you don’t check in.” 

“Is this supposed to be dirty talk?” Heatwave complained, though his frame was heating and his valve was beginning to clench. “I-it’s not… n-not… h-haaah frag frag frag!” 

His spike twitched in High Tide’s hand, transfluid jetting against the berth covers. His body tightened around the larger mech’s softening length within him. His cooling fans screamed with the effort of expelling the heat that had built up beneath his plates and he panted for cooler air. 

High Tide let Heatwave go limp in his grasp, smirking at the back of the younger mech’s helm. “I think that concludes today’s training.” He said in a cheerful tone, Heatwave groaning. “You just lemme know if you need a repeat of anything we discussed today.” 

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” Heatwave muttered, his optics dim. He gasped as High Tide pulled free and sat back on his heels, leaving the fire truck in an awkward position with his face in the berth covers, his aft in the air and his hand between his legs. “I don’t know if I can make it back to shore.” 

“Grab some fuel, give yourself a moment to recover. Maybe hit the wash racks.” High Tide said, patting his aft again. “You have to head back soon, or they’ll come lookin’ for you and how do you think they’ll react if they find you like this?” 

“Ugh.” Heatwave said eloquently, pushing himself onto all fours, his arms wobbling. “You’re right. I hate that.” 

“I’m sure you do, but you’re hating it with a lot less venom than you did before. Any regrets?” High Tide asked, cleaning himself with an unsoiled corner of the berth covers before tucking his flaccid spike away. 

“Too soon to tell. Processor’s not working right.” Heatwave said. He flopped back down on his face, then rolled onto his back and began trying to squirm his way to the edge of the berth. High Tide chuckled as he watched him in his strutless attempts. “You know, you could be helping me.” 

“You’re cute when you’re tired and not angry.” 

“I am not cute.” Heatwave protested, managing to get his legs over the side of the berth and slithering to his pedes. He wobbled a little as he tried to walk, stopping after a few steps to look over his shoulder. 

“Wash racks are below deck. Second door to the right.” High Tide said, pulling the berth covers off the berth so he could clean them. This had been messy, but worth it. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so satisfied. “Need help with the stairs?” 

“No.” Heatwave said petulantly, bracing himself against the wall as he made his way to the door. He paused again, glancing over his shoulder. “... thanks.” 

“Anytime kid. Anytime.”


End file.
